


Bad Blood

by orphan_account



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Rowdy family, romp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:47:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: At times like that she drives them in a direction, any direction, and Martin keeps her company, his head tipped back against the seat, cigarette smoke trailing out the cracked window.





	1. Chapter 1

This wouldn’t have any permanency. She knew that, because of course it couldn’t - but she was sick of worrying, of being trapped in her own house and in her own head, and with them she could pretend - that she was the person she was before. She could be free, like they were - even as strong as they were, maybe. Defiant. Destructive. Themselves.

There are the tells that give it away, though. The way the four never settled in any place for too long, the familiarity with which they tied their bundles of belongings and suitcases to the top of the van. The tension that built between them like static. They weren’t running - she didn’t need Vogle to tell her that - but there was still something they couldn’t quite escape, nonetheless. Something she wouldn’t be able to touch, couldn’t even imagine, but something she kinda recognised, all the same.

Cages, cages - _you’re not going to lock me and my rowdy boys up, not again._

It’s not something you can just walk away from. That’s something she’s learning - because even though each time an attack starts she feels larger hands hovering over hers, a brush of fingertips; hears voices that murmur _got you, drummer girl_ \- that dread that she’s always wrestling with, it’s still there. It’s not gone. It haunts her, dogging her thoughts when she drags her feet out of her sleeping bag in the morning.

 _What if_ her hands start cracking, splintering and peeling like dry corn husks until her fingers can’t hold the steering wheel anymore. _What if_ she forget to breathe, if she drowns again. _What if, what if_ -

At times like that she drives them in a direction, any direction, and Martin keeps her company, his head tipped back against the seat, cigarette smoke trailing out the cracked window.

Something snaps her out of it. Normally, the agonised squeal of the stress toy. Occasionally a thud from the back, a fist pounded against the car roof or walls as the ‘boys’ wound each other about one thing or the other, as if this was what they’d been born doing.

But it’s not.

She doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to escape what brought them to this point.

But hell, if they wouldn’t try.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing they do is give her the wrench.

“Cool,” is what she says as she takes it, getting used to its weight in her hands, and Cross throws his head back and laughs.

“Cool, no shit,” he says, still laughing, and then he's stepping into her space, showing her where to put her hands. “Ain't gonna fix anything with it, though.”

There's Vogle by the van, examining a baseball bat she has vague memories of, scratching his nail at a conspicuous chip along its side. He looks up when she glances over, as if he can feel her eyes on him. Grins that goofy, too-wide smile.

“Fix some heads though, right?”

The rest of the crew chortles around her, tossing more ‘supplies’ into the back of the car, and she feels something stir in her chest.

It's something disused, something bright. Something that buzzes through her like bees drunk on sunshine, and she takes the wrench and practises swinging it, enjoying the whistle of it through the air.

“Let's get _cracking_ then,” she manages, just about without sniggering.

The guffaws and slaps on the back she gets in return makes the terrible joke worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually I will write something longer. That is not this day.

**Author's Note:**

> I R TRASH. Getting a feel for these characters <3


End file.
